In Case of Emergencies
by chezchuckles
Summary: a story in the Dash Universe. set a few years after Dash of Summer.
1. Chapter 1

**In Case of Emergencies**

* * *

_a story in the Dash Universe  
two years after Dash of Summer _

_for operaluvr who asked for a book tour: this isn't quite what you meant  
but I hope it will do_

* * *

Rick Castle hesitates in the office with his phone still in his hand, his eyes fixed on the woman in front of him.

Kate offers him a tentative smile. "Was it bad news?"

"I-" he croaks. Can't get it out.

"That bad?" She takes one step towards him, but she doesn't come the rest of the way, waiting on him.

"Depends," he finally says. His arm drops, phone inert in his hand. "Depends on how you look at it."

"Oh?" Confusion scuttles across her face; she takes a quick look behind her through the open shelves of his office, but the living room is empty. No one to overhear. "What do you mean?"

"They sold the international movie rights to the Nikki Heat series," he blurts out. "For forty million dollars."

"They... _what_?"

"But I have to do a European book tour," he adds, the whole thing crashing down on him now. What it involves, what it means for them. "A three month tour to start with."

"To start with. Three months," she says. Her voice is like steel, nothing shows on her face. "Okay."

"Starting this summer. The studio over there had already procured a director; they even have a team already writing the script. Even before I said - yes."

"You said yes?" she blurts out.

Castle stares at her. He _did_. He said yes. "On accident," he offers weakly, spreading his hands in surrender.

Kate laughs, which is a huge relief, and he reaches out for her, needing a hug right about now. Kate comes, sliding her arms around his waist, squeezing, giving in to his unspoken need. They're clicking along pretty well at the moment; it makes him happy to know they get each other's needs, they can foresee what happens next.

Won't always be like that, not with the trial coming up. He should postpone-

"You said yes on accident, Castle?"

"I think I was just so surprised. And then Paula just _ran_ with it, and started lining things up, and now there's a movie in the works, and I've got to go back to Nikki Heat."

"Nothing wrong with that," she murmurs. He can feel her smile even if he can't see it. She steps back from him then, releasing his waist to settle against the desk. "So Nikki Heat is going to take Europe by storm. Do you have any say in what goes into the movie?"

"Movies," he stresses. "A series syndication. They said - they talked about it like James Bond. For women."

Her jaw drops.

"I did say the forty million dollars part, right?"

Kate stares up at him, hands braced on the desk. "Oh my God. Castle. That's - I guess I didn't _hear_ that."

"It's an obscene amount of money."

"It really is," she chuckles. "But wow. Congratulations, babe. That's huge."

He can see it going across her face, what they're in for, how popularity overseas will mean a lot of effort and time spent _there_ instead of here, where his family is. With the impeachment case quietly building, and Black Pawn finally at an autonomous place. Okay, well, not exactly autonomous, but it hums along nicely without him most days. He's been able to focus on Felix and his kids, focus on supporting Kate and the prosecutor.

And his _kid's_ kid. Sophie. His heart melts a little even now. Sophie will be three months _older_ when Castle gets back from Europe. That's not fair.

"You can do it," Kate says briskly. "We can do it. It won't be a problem."

"What about - Sophie?" he says finally. "She's so young."

"Sophie?" she laughs, her lips tugging up. "You're worried about Allie's daughter? What about _our_ daughter? Our son? _M__e_ - your wife?"

"My wife? She's fine," he waves off. "She's always fine." He grins up at her, lips smirking, but he tries to take it seriously. "The kids are older - they want me around a whole lot less now that they're in school. Ella barely acknowledges my existence."

Kate tilts her head, a look he doesn't understand swimming in her eyes. "She'll miss you so much. Three months right now is a big deal. And Dash. Poor kid. Who else is going to talk about every single nuance of a word? Not me."

"Dash has much cooler things going on than stopping to hang out with his old dad."

Kate sighs, steps into his arms again, wrapping him up. "And the baby is the only one who wants to hang out with you? Is that it?"

"The baby _adores_ me."

"Sophie just doesn't know better yet."

He grumbles into her hair but she only laughs and strokes the back of his neck. "A joke. Surely you know that's a joke. You'd be surprised, Rick. How many of us adore you."

Castle gives an embarrassed little laugh, surprised by her. "Oh, yeah? You adore me?"

She nudges a kiss into his neck and releases him again. "Yeah. Though I meant the kids. But, sure, me too."

He shakes his head, has to absolutely crush the urge to roll his eyes - that's _her_ trait and she can keep it. "Well, we should tell the kids. You think this summer they'd - I don't know - want to meet up with me? You guys could all come over."

Kate lifts her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Just the four of us," he says quickly. "Give Allie and Rafe some time alone with their little family - without us horning in on everything."

"Without _you_ horning in," she smirks.

"Or that," he mutters back to her. But Kate seems to be thinking about it. "Well, summer is a long way off - next year, really. But. I think I can get the time off."

"Two weeks?" he asks, pushing it. There's the case - whenever that's supposed to come up, they still don't know. She'll want to be involved in that, so two weeks is asking a lot.

"Three?" she offers, biting her bottom lip.

"_Four_?"

Kate winces, holds up both hands. "That - well, you will be there for three months, Rick. If the kids and I come out to meet you in Paris or London or wherever for a month - then - well, it would be easier to take the other two months without you. Say the whole month of July."

He blinks, staring at her. Is this really the Kate Beckett who fights tooth and nail for every case, every victim? The workaholic?

"Stop looking at me like that," she says, poking his shoulder. "I take time off."

"You absolutely do _not_," he shoots back. "Not a month."

"You don't want me to?"

"Oh, no, no. I didn't say that. I definitely want you in Europe with me for a month. For three months, if I could get you."

She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, frowning. "I don't know if-"

He laughs, grips her by the upper arms, trying to loosen her up. "Kate, babe, not what I meant. Just meet me in Paree, oui?"

She wrinkles her nose at his cheesy line, but she steps into him, her feet fitting between his. "Maybe so. A month at least. It's more vacation time than I really have, but I think we can afford it. You did just sign away movie rights to Nikki Heat."

"International," he corrects. The US release was a total flop. He doesn't like to think about it.

"International woman of mystery," she whispers.

And then her mouth opens over his neck, tongue touching his skin, and he finds it incredibly difficult to think at all about Europe - or anything else.

* * *

Dash looks very seriously at the gift his father holds out to him. "That's for me? Because you get to fly a plane?"

"And you don't?" his mother laughs. She cups the back of his head, pressing it against her hip, but Dash dodges her hand. He's a little old for that - his birthday is coming up and he'll be eight years old, and if his Dad is giving him a _phone_, then Mom doesn't get to treat him like a baby.

"I really wanted to fly a plane," he sighs. But his father is still holding out the bright green phone and he takes it; Dad always has the best toys, even if this doesn't look like much. He turns it over in his hands and tries to use his thumb to unlock it. Nothing happens. It sits like a dumb green frog in his hand. "This isn't a real phone."

His mom flicks his ear. "It is a real phone. It's just not an iphone. You think we're giving a seven year old an iphone? Think again, wild man."

He huffs up at her but his dad takes him by the shoulder, pulls him to the couch where they both sit. Dad takes the phone and pushes a button at the top to turn it on. It has a garish display - _Mom_ taught him that word - and as it loads up the different apps, it has a huge green smiling face on the screen.

"There's like two apps on this," he says, poking at the screen.

"That's on purpose," Mom says.

"You know I'm going to Europe," his father tells him. "And that's kind of far away. But this is so you can call me. Any time. Anywhere."

"Oh?" He can call his dad _by himself_?

"It only calls my cell phone and mom's, so you can't get into too much trouble," Dad chuckles. "And if Ellery wants to call - then you have to promise to help her."

"So it's not really _my_ phone."

"No, it is your phone," his mom says, moving to sit beside him on the couch so that Dash is now a Dash sandwich. He wriggles between them and Mom scratches her fingers in his scalp then ducks his head with a push of her hand. Feels good, makes his whole anxious body settle down again.

"But if Ella gets to-"

"But you're the one who has to help her," Dad says. "She doesn't get a phone; she's only five. And you get to decide if it's a good idea or not, to make a phone call to me all the way in Europe."

"I bet I can hack this phone," he tells them, scowling because _Ella_.

His mother starts to laugh, and she waves her hand as if in dismissal when Dash glances at her. Mom gets up and moves like she's going to head for the stairs, probably to explain to Ellery what it means by _Dash's phone_ even though Dash is pretty sure Ella will try to steal it from him anyway.

Ella is _no respecter of persons_. He heard that in church. It's a really good phrase to use for a little sister who keeps trying to take his stuff, though he's got no idea what it means about God things. Ellery even takes _Sophie's_ stuff, and Sophie's just a baby who can't help it. It's not like Sophie ever means to take up all of Dad's time.

Mom kisses his forehead, and then lifts to kiss Dad's forehead too. "You explain it, Castle. I want no part of this."

Dash glances nervously to the stairs. "You're gonna tell Ella that it's mine, right?"

"I'm going up to tell her right now, baby. Promise. She's not allowed to take it. Though I doubt that will stop her."

"Mom!"

His dad gives him a grim and funny look. "Your mom thinks it's going to be a colossal train wreck."

"Do trains get wrecked?" he startles. "But, Dad, they run on tracks. They can't _go_ nowhere. How do they wreck?"

His dad shakes his head, reaches out to tap the bright green, rubbery phone. "This is yours. If there _is_ a train wreck, you call me."

"So, never?"

He's made his dad laugh. This is a good one, loud and surprised. "Son, I'm talking about emergencies. That's what I mean. You have a bad dream and you absolutely have to talk to me - that's understandable. But see if you can't get mom first. Then call me if you still need to."

"Oh, emergencies. Do planes wreck?"

"Sometimes." And then Dad hesitates, glancing towards the upstairs where Mom has disappeared and Dash feels uncomfortable. It's like the ants in the ant colony at school have escaped out of their sand and begun to crawl up his arms.

Dad is supposed to say, _Sometimes but not my plane._

Dad doesn't say it. Dash lets out a breath. "But I can call you if something bad happens." His palms are sweaty against the phone; he really wants Mom to come back downstairs and say those things that Dad won't say. Dad says, _It's not my job to lie to you. I'm your father; I'm supposed to help you understand how the world works - and your place in it._

Planes crash, maybe his dad's plane, and _trains_ can be wrecked, which just seems impossible.

"You can call me, Dash," his father says quietly. "Any time you want. Okay? Forget what I said about emergencies. Sometimes a guy just needs to talk to his dad."

Dash swallows, nodding fiercely as that rushes through him, things getting good again. Mom has been making him do these stupid thermometers - emotional thermometers, he's supposed to call them. But right now he's cooling off to where he needs to be to make good decisions, not running so hot. His engine has to stay a steady temperature or else it all just - blows up.

"I can call you," he echoes. "But, Dad, you can call me too. Any time. Even if I'm at swim."

"Oh, yeah?" his dad says. He sounds like maybe he's trying not to laugh, and Dash lifts his head to look, squinting suspiciously.

"Yeah. Can this phone go in the water?"

His dad starts to laugh then, rubbing the corners of his eyes like he might cry. "Oh, Dash, wild man. I _told_ your mom you'd want it in the water. So yeah, kiddo, it's water-proof."

"Awesome. So I can swim with it."

"Um. How about you leave it in your bag when you swim? You don't want it slowing you down, more resistance in the water."

"Oh yeah," Dash murmurs. "You're right. That would be bad. Miller is _so_ fast. I'm gonna catch him."

"I'm sure you'll do your very best, and that's all we ask, buddy. You know?" Dad hooks his arm around Dash's neck and squeezes, which is another one of those good things that makes Dash's body settle down, maintain a good temperature for his engine. "But, hey, I should tell you. Time zones are different. So you might call me, and I might be asleep or in a meeting because it's a different time there."

"I can stay up late, Dad. I stay up with you sometimes."

"Yeah, if I'm working on a book. And you stay up with Mom, I know. But in Europe, where I'm going, I might be _asleep_. So don't panic if I don't answer right away."

"Okay, I won't panic," he promises. "But you'll call me back?"

"Yeah. But hey, wild man, Mom says it's just for emergencies, Mom is going to tell you that you'll see me in a month when you guys all come. So... you know."

"I know," he says, nodding very adult and grown-up like Mom does to Dad a lot. Especially lately, when they talk about the Vice-President. They didn't vote for him, maybe that's why, but lots of other people did because they didn't know any better.

Dad hugs him harder and it's just the two of them on the couch, no Sophie, not even Ella or Mom, and the green frog of a phone isn't that bad really. It's garish and for babies, but Miller doesn't have a phone, does he?

"Dad, do you think I can show Miller my phone?" Dash tucks in real close to his dad and leans against his side and sees just how long his own leg is against his dad's leg. It gets closer and closer every day. Mom says he'll be just as tall as his dad. But Dash thinks it's real slow-going. "Do you think I can call when I win my swim meet?"

"Well," Dad says. Hedging. That's what the word is when you don't want to say what you really think. Dad explained it was like putting those prickly bushes all around your thought and inviting someone in to find it. No one is gonna want to do that, so you've kept the real thought safe. Hedging.

The real thought is this: Mom says only emergencies, and Mom will be the one here to say _no_.

Dash looks glumly down at his phone. "I'm never gonna be able to talk."

His dad laughs softly, but it's a nice laugh, a laugh of kindness that says it's okay to not be exactly right. Or to be exactly_ exactly_ right in this case. "Maybe Miller doesn't get to see your cool phone, but you'll be able to talk to me, even if Mom makes you leave it at home. Besides, Mom will have to help you make the call."

"She said she's got no part of it," Dash complains.

"You think Mom wouldn't help you call if you really needed to? I think she'd help you."

"Yeah," but he's still moping. He knows it too, but that doesn't make him feel better. His dad is leaving for months and months and Dad gets to fly a plane really high over the world and it's just not fair. Dash has always always wanted to fly a plane. "Can I fly a plane someday like you?"

"Fly a - oh, man. Dashiell. I'm not the one flying it; I don't know how. I don't have a license. A pilot will do that for me - me and all the passengers."

The image Dash has in his head of the sputtering little plane with it's cockpit window and waving-wings like _The Little Prince_ movie they watched is suddenly popped like a bubble. Just a _regular_ plane. He heard wrong; that's embarrassing. He's always missing pieces of conversations because he starts thinking about other things.

Like flying a plane. Instead of that oh-so-important _in_. In a plane. One little word.

But his dad has his thoughtful look on his face, and Dash perks up, casting a sharp grin at his dad. "Can we learn it? You and me? We could fly a plane if someone gave us a license."

His dad is thinking about it; Dash can see it on his face. Thinking hard. "Give me time to soften up your mom. We'll see."

"We'll see?! That _totally_ means yes!"

"I heard that!" his mom calls out. She's heading back into the living room now with two big, wrapped presents - and Ellery is trailing after her, looking avid and curious. "_We'll see_ means we have to think about it. Castle, what are we thinking about?"

"Flying a plane," Dad says - breezily. Avid and breezy. Good words, Dash is really glad he knows how to think those words exactly right to make the whole thing as it should be - plus they sound like plane words. So it might happen.

Avid Ellery is hopping down the last step, and instead of running to Dad and crawling into his arms, she comes to _him_ and cuddles close.

"You gots a phone, Dashy?"

"It's my phone," he says sharply. "And don't baby talk. You're five."

"Almost six," she mutters.

"Where's Linc?" Mom asks.

Dashiell recoils in horror, slimy slimy horror, but Ellery giggles. "I put him up, Mommy. He's in his home. Dash don't like him."

"Where's Rex?" Dash grumbles. "You had him dog-napped for Linc to ride-"

"Him sleeping," Ella says.

Dad reaches out and tugs on her ear, lifting an eyebrow. "He is sleeping. Use the right pronouns, baby girl."

Ellery rolls her eyes and wriggles closer to Dash, reaching for the green frog phone. Dash yanks it back, reflex, but then realizes he ought to let her look or she'll _hound_ him. Or lizard him. Run after him with Abraham Lincoln the slimy horrible bearded-dragon lizard.

Ellery's mouth drops open when he puts the phone in her hands. Dad drops a heavy pat on Dashiell's back for it, and then Mom is moving to sit opposite them on the coffee table.

And _she's_ got two presents in her hands.

"Mom?"

"I know I can't compete with the phone," Mom says, winking at _Dad_ for some reason. "Boys and their toys. But this... kind of relates. Here, Dash, Ella, these are from me."

It's like his birthday or something. But it's not his birthday, not even a _half_ birthday which Mom says is a trick and not a birthday and no one gets presents for half-birthdays except Dad because _he _got tricked on his birthday which is April Fool's, the biggest trick day of all. So Dad gets half birthdays.

Ellery dumps the phone back in his hands so fast he barely realizes it, and then she's taking the present from Mom and hugging it against her. "All for me, Mommy?"

"All for you. Dash, baby, this one is yours."

Dash tucks the phone under his leg to keep it safe and Mom gives him the box. He glances over at his sister - they're the same kind of shape, and they got them together, so it means they're the same present. He waits to see what Ella gets.

It's a backpack. A really cool _Optrix_ backpack with the net pocket too. Dash blinks, then rips open his own paper, tearing the lid off the box and _he's got one too_. Mom said _no_. She totally said no when he asked, and now Mom is giving him and Ella _both_ these backpacks? They have _wires_. They charge his phone, and his video game, and have all these pockets, and they come with the computer thing that lets him play Optrix the _game_.

Dash stares down at it, at the green phone in his lap too.

"This is soooo pretty. But I got a school bag," Ellery says. Dash knocks his elbow into her and gives her _the look_. She shuts up, furrows her eyebrows as she looks down at the backpack. Ella plays Optrix too, but not as much as him.

"Mom, you got us Optrix backpacks. This is _so_ cool," he says. "Ellery, isn't it so cool?"

"I can have this?" She's running her fingers over the black and blue zebra stripes on the side. He reaches out and touches it too, feels the weird furry-snake skin of it. His doesn't feel like that - Mom knows better. But Ella loves it; she rubs it over and over.

"For this summer, these are your carryon bags," Mom says then, bending down and kissing his neck right behind his ear. His heart was already a little funny at the backpack and the word he's _so_ sure he knows, carryon, but surely-

"What's that?" Ella says. "I not know."

Dad reaches across him and takes Ellery up into his lap, kissing her cheeks loudly. "Carryon, and you _do _know. Plus you know I think you're the cutest baby girl to ever live - but I would really like to hear you talk like a five year old. Not a baby."

Ellery does _not_ like that at all, and Dash keeps trying to tell Dad, but Dad thinks - actually, Dashiell doesn't know at all what Dad thinks, since it only makes Ella so so mad and Dad would stop if he knew better. He thinks. Mom would push, make her mad just to make Ella do something.

"You don't think I'm cuter than Sophie. _She's _the cute baby," Ellery huffs, wriggling straight out of Dad's lap and hopping back to her spot next to him.

Dad lifts both eyebrows. _Mom_ doesn't look surprised. Well, neither is Dash. Sophie is here _all the time_.

"Ellery," Dad says quietly. "You and I are going to have a talk. And I'd send you to your room for being disrespectful, but it's possible that your old Dad has been a little disrespectful first. So let's call a truce, baby girl."

"I'm not a baby," she mutters, turning her head away from Dad.

Dash nudges her, and she looks at him, and then she looks at Mom too, so Mom must have said something to her upstairs.

"Hey, Ellery Queen," Mom murmurs, leaning in over the backpacks to kiss her. "What did I say? Daddy has to leave tomorrow, and he wants to have a good night with his family. Okay?"

"But the _carryons_," Dash bursts out. He can't help it. So what if Ellery is moody and sulky? She _always_ gets mad. "What is going on? Why do we have carryons? Optrix backpacks that you said no, no, no."

Dad laughs, but he's looking at Ellery. "You, and Ella, and Mom are going to fly out and visit me while I'm on tour. In about a month."

Dash's whole body bursts with it, flaring open and colorful and wide; he flings his arms around his dad's neck and hugs, hugs so hard. "We get to come see you?"

"Yeah, course," Dad says. His voice is all thick. "In a month. Ellery? You hear that, sweetheart?"

"In a month," she repeats.

Dash looks over his shoulder at Ellery and for the first time - he sees it. Ella is so so unhappy. She's been mean and fighting and taking his stuff, dog-napping Rex, but she's so _sad_.

That's why. She doesn't want Daddy to leave.

"Ellery, come here," Dad says. "Give me a hug. I need a really good one from my _only_ baby girl."

Ellery climbs over Dash, putting her foot - oof - right in his guts, and then she's hanging on Dad like a monkey, and Dash has to let go of Dad entirely.

But Mom shifts to the couch and wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in. Her voices comes right in his ear, soft, "Thanks for being such a good brother. I'm proud of you, Dashiell."

He grins and turns his head to see Mom, her eyes happy with him, and he hugs her now too, because _she's_ the one taking them to Europe in July to meet Dad, and _she's_ the one who's going to help him call Dad on the phone.

Mom pats his shoulder. "So. Kid. You and me and Ella this summer. What do you want to do?"

"Can we get an ant farm?"

Mom goes blank, stares at him.

"We have one at school. I really have always wanted one. It would console me because Dad is gone."

"You're a piece of work," Mom laughs, shaking her head.

But-?

"We'll see," she says.

_We'll see_ means yes. Everyone knows that.

He's getting an ant farm.


	2. Chapter 2

**In Case of Emergencies**

* * *

_with thanks to TA Barron, whose story of his son's emergency inspired this fic_

* * *

Rick Castle shifts in his chair on stage, trying his best to keep the smile going.

His throat is killing him. Maybe it's the dust motes he can see swimming in the stage lights.

The headache that started on the last flight has lingered in the background, waiting for just such an opportunity as this. He wants to crawl into bed and be miserable, but he's got a presentation and then a signing at the university.

He feels out of sorts. Probably doesn't help that Kate sounded so _lost_ this morning when they had their usual phone call. Poor Kate. She's walking that fine line of not being allowed to handle much of the Bracken case, and yet wanting so badly to not have it out of her control. She's irritated because of it, and he spent the conversation trying to tiptoe around those minefields, while she was obviously exhausted - single parenting two school kids with fun issues isn't easy.

His head is killing him. He clears his throat and the scratch persists.

The university professor's introduction of him from the podium is superb and practically effusive in praise of the characterization of a strong female police officer in New York City. And this is one of the University's tenured professors - not in language or literature, but in Criminology, which Rick finds fascinating - and his English is impeccable, cultured, lovely to listen to.

If his head weren't pounding.

Rick is in a leather-upholstered chair alone on the far right of the lectern; it's not a podium, to be precise, and if life with Dashiell has taught him anything, it's the need to be precise. He would explain to his son how the term podium has morphed over the years to mean anything a person stands at to give a speech, but originally it was only the platform someone stood _on_. Podium. As in podiatry. Arthropods - jointed legs.

Speaking of jointed legs and insects - he still can't believe Kate has allowed an ant farm inside the loft. He was against it, just as he was against the lizard, but he supposes if his girl gets her Abe Lincoln, then poor Dash gets his - ants.

Kate has been texting him pictures of the set-up - it's a do-it-yourself project that Dashiell found on WikiKidsHow, or whatever it's called - and it's definitely educational. Dash has learned all about ant colonies and eggs and tunnels, as well as spent some quality time with Kate.

Even Ella is interested in the ant farm. Ellery who has been secluding herself away from their family ever since Sophie was born and Castle started spending time with his first grandchild. He knows - he gets it - he's trying to be better, but in the middle of trying comes a three-month European tour.

The speaker has apparently come to a flourished close and gestures towards him with beaming, cherubic attention, and Castle stands up and smiles back, waving a little to the people out in the crowded lecture hall. He steps up to the podium - lectern, sorry, wild man - and adjusts the bendable arm of the microphone.

The lights are brilliant, the air is electric and waiting, and he _lives_ for this - recalcitrant daughter and ant-farming son, notwithstanding. Head cold, notwithstanding as well.

Rick Castle leans in to the microphone on stage at University of Amsterdam - they produced six Nobel Laureates, and he's honored, he really and truly is - and he opens up the book, lays it flat on the lectern, and he intones his near-memorized first chapter of Naked Heat.

_"Nikki Heat pondered red lights - and why they seemed to last so much longer when there was no traffic. The one she waited for at Amsterdam and 83rd-"_

There's light laughter due to the fact that they are, actually, in Amsterdam, and Castle lifts his head to acknowledge that fact. Only to feel his phone buzz in his inside jacket pocket.

Hard.

For some reason, it completely throws him.

He's been in Amsterdam five days, and there are only a small handful of numbers which are allowed to call in and bypass the do not disturb. And they all know his schedule, so none of them should be calling.

His phone vibrates again, tickling his ribs where it rests, tickling his throat.

Castle blanks, the words completely deserting him, and he has to look down at the book to figure out what comes next. He's been on tour for a month, this reading is long by rote, but the text blurs and fades away. He didn't even bring his notecards.

His talk with Kate early this morning, his six a.m. and her midnight, comes back to him with startling clarity. At the time he thought - _there's something going on_. He thought maybe the impeachment pre-trial stuff was weighing on her mind, and she didn't want to burden him, but maybe it's more, worse, maybe it's an actual threat.

He can't get the words back. The room is beginning to unthread from the spool of his control, people shifting in their seats, creaks of the building, and his phone vibrates again in his pocket, insistent. Sweat beads on his forehead.

Castle reaches inside his jacket and takes out his phone, but it's not Kate.

It's Dashiell.

Castle clears his throat and leans into the mic. "I apologize. My son is - I have to take this."

The room breaks, concern and surprise, but he ignores them, ignores his publicist's assistant who is sending him a frantic _no no no_, and he steps away from the lectern, already answering the call.

"Dashiell?" he husks. "Where's mom?"

"Dad, Dad! _They're all going to die!_"

"Dashiell," he barks, heading quickly off-stage and behind the curtain, searching for the exit. "What's wrong? Where's your mother? Ellery-?"

"Mom's at work."

Rick takes a breath, opens the backstage door, stepping out into cool afternoon, the sun dipping below the roofline of the university buildings. "Mom's at work. And where are you, Dash?"

"In my room. Gram's here, but Dad-"

"And where is Ellery?"

"I don't know - in her room? But, Dad-"

"Dashiell," he says, rubbing his forehead with a finger and thumb. Relief is trickling down him like ice water, making his knees a little weak. "Do you remember what I said about the phone? Only-"

"But it is! This is a _dire emergency_."

Rick hears the assistant coming after him, so he lets the stagedoor slam shut and heads around the side of the building. "Dash, what's the emergency? Is Mom-"

"My ants are all dying. Dad, they're _dying_."

"Your - aunts?" he blurts out. "Oh, your _ants_."

"Mom said I could get one!" Dash shrieks.

"No, that's not a problem. I know you got an ant farm. I thought you meant like Aunt Lanie. It's a pun, Dash."

"My aun-" Dash giggles helplessly, and the sound eases the pinch around Castle's heart. It can't be that bad, whatever it is. Can't be anything to do with Kate. Dashiell always - he's got that sensitive way about him, and Dash would be absolutely giggle-less if Kate's upset about work. Or hurt.

"Dash? My wild man, you said it was a dire emergency."

"Oh, Daddy," Dash says, voice hitching. "They're drowning. My ants. They're drowning dead."

"Ohhh," Castle sighs. "Kiddo, ants are - they're not exactly easy to keep alive."

"They made tunnels!" Dash exclaims. "They're happy! They like my farm!"

"Did you try to feed or water them without Mom's help?" Do It Yourself project off the internet, and this is what happens.

"I..."

"Dash, from what I remember, an ant farm - you maybe put in a few drops with an eye dropper. Or let it roll off your fingers. Otherwise, it floods the tunnels."

"I think I flooded the tunnels," Dash whispers. "Oh, no. Dad. Dad, I've killed my ants. My whole farm. I murdered them. It's a _massacre._"

"Well." Castle winces. "Dash. I'm sorry. I really am."

"_Dad_."

"It's - I know it feels sad right now, but it's not the end of the world, buddy."

"Mr Castle?"

He jerks around and the assistant is right there, frowning, arms crossed. He covers the phone with a hand and brings it away from his mouth. "Give me a few minutes. It's an emergency."

The woman's face changes, from disapproval to concern, and she whips out her phone. "I can have you on a plane in-"

Castle has to really work at keeping a straight face; he nods seriously and swallows back his laughter. "Right, I appreciate that, Jean, I really do. But let me get the details first, and I'll let you know."

"Oh," Jean blinks. "Okay. Well - I can have the car pull around and take you back to the hotel? And... we can go from there?"

"Sure," he says, nodding. "That's good." He brings the phone back up and Jean is already scurrying away to get everything accomplished. And hopefully make his excuses. He's suddenly so grateful for a flooded ant farm massacre. He needs a break. He needs his family.

"Dash?"

"Dad. I'm watching them drown. They're dying right in front of my eyes."

"Oh, man. Dash. Don't do that. Don't watch it happen."

"It's so bad. I - I just thought it would be better for them building."

"Dashiell, don't watch it."

"I thought like when we build on the beach - you always get a big bucket of water and dump it on our foundation cause it's stronger and the sand doesn't fall apart."

"Yeah," Castle sighs. "Yeah, we do that with sand castles and pitfalls, don't we? Did you - uh - did you dump water into the ant farm like that?"

"Why didn't it work? Dad, they're not floating. I thought ants could swim. Should I try to fish 'em out?"

"Dashiell, buddy, I think you gotta just walk away. You can't save them all." He can see all-too-clearly just how this is going to traumatize the kid, and he feels a little responsible for it. Not the ant farm - nope, that was Kate's call; he said no. But being gone for so long on top of adjusting to a new baby.

Well, Allie's baby. But Sophie is always with them - with _him_; Castle is acting as Daddy daycare two days a week so far, and it might as well be Dash and Ella with a new sister. They're so close in age, and he - yes, he admits it - he dotes on Sophie because it's his daughter's little girl.

Something special about that, something so incredible. And he really misses his kids right now.

"Dash?"

"Dad, I think I hear them."

"No, my man," Castle sighs. "You don't hear them."

"Ant language. _Help, help_-"

"No. Ants don't have words."

"I can hear-"

Castle quickly pulls down his phone, puts Dash on speaker.

"-them in there. They're so scared, clinging to each other, _save me_."

He opens the internet, types _how do ants communicate._ It takes roughly ten seconds for him to speed read the top few search results, and most of the rest comes back to him.

"It's the whole family - the mommy and daddy and all their babies, screaming-"

"Dash?" he interrupts, reading the wikipedia page entry at the side. He makes a mental note to donate again to that life-saving institution.

"Dad?"

"Dash, ants don't scream. They use pheromones." It says they use sounds too, but he's gonna skip that. "Remember when we talked about smelling good?"

"Use deodorant," Dash says listlessly.

Castle chuckles, but he tries to keep it subdued. "Yeah, kiddo. But these ants put down different smells so that other ants will know what's going on. No words. Smells."

There's a moment of silence, and then Dashiell's voice comes over the line with a spark of life. "Like what?"

"Like when they build their tunnels," he continues. "They have a smell for - hey, guys, this way to the bathroom! And all the ants know, oh, hey, this trail leads to a bathroom - it's the bathroom smell."

"Bathroom smell. Gross."

"And when they find food, they leave a trail showing all the other ants how to get there."

"Like a food smell?"

"Exactly," Castle says, leaning back against the university's theatre. "It says, Donuts around the corner."

"I could be an ant. I love donuts."

"You could. You have a good nose," he smiles, taking a deep breath. The sky is beginning to go pink with sunset. "You could follow my trail all the way out here. Miss you, Dash."

"All my ants are dead," Dash says. But the mourning has gone from his voice; there's only a little hint of melodrama remaining. That's probably for Castle's benefit, and to keep from getting in trouble about using the phone.

"Yeah, my man. It's the circle of life. At least you had fun while you had them. You should think about the good times."

"I gotta throw this out. It's disgusting."

Castle straightens up. "Hey, uh, let Mom help you, okay?" Just what Kate needs, a few not-drowned ants crawling around in the kid's garbage can.

"Okay," Dash sighs. And then a sound comes across the line and Dash takes a fast breath. "Oh, it's just Ella. Here."

"Whoa, wait, Dash. I need to go-"

But the phone is being passed and Castle can hear Dash saying something about his dead ants, and then there's a long silence. Castle glances down at his watch. The car should be right out front and while it was a good excuse to get him out of here, let his voice rest after a non-stop three weeks on tour, he really needs to make his apologies and reschedule.

His head is pounding. Ella won't talk on the phone anyway; she never does. She's under some kind of vow of silence intended to hurt his feelings-

"Daddy?"

"Ellery?" he croaks. "Oh, hey, baby girl. I can hear you."

"Daddy, where are you?"

"I'm in Amsterdam, sweetheart."

There's a moment of breathing quiet, and then her small voice. "Mommy showed it to me on the map."

"She did? Good, good. I miss you, Ella."

"Daddy, you come back?"

"Well, first, you and Dash and Mommy are going to come visit me here."

"Where?"

"We're going to be in Paris. Won't that be fun?"

"No Sophie?"

Castle winces.

There's a soft little sigh. "Daddy, I think Sophie misses you."

"Oh?" he chokes out. "She does?"

"Gram comes and stays here with all of us, but I think Sophie likes you best."

"What about you, Ellery?"

"I like when Mommy plays with me."

Castle grunts, but even the _way _she says it sounds like Kate teasing him. "Oh, you do, huh?"

And then Ellery takes a breath and rushes on, "And I like when you read me stories. Daddy, even when you tell Sophie stories, you tell me stories too?"

"Of course, I will. Of course, sweet girl." The fact that it's a question at all makes him wish he could wrap her up in a hug. "Hey, you know that no one can ever be my Ella - just you."

"Dashy's ants did all drown so dead. Like a mudslide."

Castle barks a laugh that echoes against the brick. "Yeah, yeah, I heard that. You're just like your mother, Ellery. Did you know that? Mommy does the same thing to me."

"Mommy does what?"

Hates to be confronted with praise. Castle shakes his head and straightens up from the side of the building, starts making his way to the front, and the waiting car. "Nothing, baby. Since we're here, why don't I tell you a story now?"

"I don't want to take a nap," Ella says, a scowly voice on the phone.

"No, baby girl. Not a nap. Just a story."

"Oh. Just for - middle of the day?"

"Just because I love you," he tells her softly.

"I love you too, Daddy."

Castle nearly runs into the assistant coming back around to get him, and she takes him by the sleeve, tugging him towards the front entrance. Castle switches hands with the phone, puts it against his ear, settles in to make his daughter happy.

Maybe Dash was more accurate than he realized - maybe it was a _kind _of emergency. A family emergency.

One more week before they're all together again.

* * *

**_A/N: _**The plan is to start a Dash story this summer of their time in Paris. I hope to see you there! Until then, I hope you enjoy this season.

Check out my tumblr for updates: writingwell . tumblr . com


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